


breathe life into me and set my soul on fire

by SupermanYoosung



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Partner Betrayal, Physical and emotional scars, Post-Canon, Reincarnation, Tragedy, based on a longtime rp au that was too good to be abandoned, there's some gore descriptions too, this is a fucking mess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:55:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24174715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SupermanYoosung/pseuds/SupermanYoosung
Summary: Physical scars usually can eventually heal, and barely leave a mark. But mental scars can fester, can metastasize, can eventually take over one’s entire soul.Makoto, unfortunately, had not fully grasped that concept yet. And when Hajime’s scars eventually made him break, neither of them could prepare for what followed.
Relationships: Asahina Aoi/Kirigiri Kyouko (background), Hinata Hajime/Naegi Makoto
Comments: 23
Kudos: 59





	1. the first spark

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first multi-chapter work i've published! this is based loosely off a roleplay plot i had with a friend a long time ago and i honestly still love it. even if it hurts me.  
> please read the tags, this is a very angst-ridden work. it WILL have a happy ending but they'll have to fucking work for it.  
> this is set post-DR3. i didn't wanna work v3 in here because that'd be too complicated hahaha.  
> please feel free to add any suggestions!
> 
> song for this chapter: hope of morning - icon for hire

The sun’s rays crept into the Future Foundation’s base, and Makoto managed to crack his eyelids open, his blurry vision just making out the room around him. His alarm hadn’t gone off yet, which was a surprise--considering how Makoto often slept in past the alarm, with how exhausting working at the Foundation was. Just barely, he could see a figure pacing around the room, and Makoto finally blinked the sleep from his eyes and managed to focus his sight. 

Hajime, his long-time and live-in boyfriend, was pacing briskly back and forth, hands behind his back, glaring down at the floor with his brows furrowed. Just by the look on his face, Hajime’s thoughts were racing, so much so that he didn’t even notice Makoto was awake. And, to be fair, Makoto couldn’t blame him. 

The Foundation had just received intel that the last stragglers of the Ultimate Despair group were planning to make an attack. Most of the world was healing, and the days of the world being run by despair were long gone. But there was still almost a  _ cult  _ out there, wanting to inundate the world with despair once more. These stragglers were usually not a threat, but a planned attack was still something to be dealt with. The Foundation didn’t know exactly how many members were in this cult, and who would attack--it could be 10 people, or 1000 people. Considering Hajime’s history with despair… it wasn’t surprising that he’d be agitated. 

Makoto slowly forced himself to sit up. “Haji…? Are you alright?” A dumb question. More of a formality, after all. 

Hajime froze for a second--almost as if he was… scared? Makoto was about to gently prod him more, when Hajime forced a smile and tried to relax, walking over to the bed and sitting by his boyfriend. “I’m alright. I just woke up early and was thinking, that’s all.”

Makoto didn’t say anything for a second, his eyes searching Hajime’s face, knowing that he was hiding something. But, of course, maybe he was just anxious about the attack… and the fact that Makoto was assigned to be part of the counterattack. 

The shorter male smiled softly, reaching up to brush Hajime’s hair out of his face. “It’ll be okay, I promise. There will be plenty of people with me. The Foundation needs all of the protection it can get--”

“Please, Makoto.” Hajime’s eyes were suddenly very intense--swirling with different emotions; pleading, fear, horror. “Please don’t go. Please. I… I can’t protect you if you do.”

Ah, right. The Foundation still didn’t entirely trust Hajime, and refused to put him in any battles… or, well, any work at all, really, despite Hajime’s multiple talents. Mostly he was confined to Makoto’s “assistant.” Which, most of the time, neither of them minded, but…

“Haji… I’ll be fine. Really, I promise.” Makoto smiled, that soft smile that made Hajime’s heart melt into a puddle, that made it seem as if all of this was going to be okay, that soon they could just sleep in together and hold each other tightly and forget the world around them. 

But Hajime’e eyes barely softened. The longer Makoto held his gaze, the more dark anxiety swirled behind those eyes. 

That was the first inkling Makoto had that something  _ else  _ was below the surface. Maybe it was just the first time they’d be apart since the final killing game. Before that…

“I promise you, Hajime. I’ll come back alive. I have to.”

They both searched each other’s faces for a long time, trying to desperately find an answer that was still muddled beneath fear and anxiety. Finally, Hajime lowered his head (in resignation…?), and nodded. 

“I believe you… You have to come back alive. No matter what happens… you have to stay alive, alright?”

Makoto tilted his head in surprise… and then laughed a little bit. “Of course, Haji. I promise.” He reached out, curling his fingers around Hajime’s, which seemed to relax him a little. “Let’s just get ready for the day, okay? The attack isn’t for another couple of days. We’ll enjoy this little break while we can… as much as possible while everyone’s running around like chickens without heads.” 

Finally, Hajime managed a smile and a small chuckle himself. “Yeah… let’s enjoy it… while we can.”

In his pocket, Hajime crumpled the small note that had been burning a hole in his pants for the past few days.

* * *

They’d actually met before this all started, when they were both at Hope’s Peak Academy. Hajime had offered to help Makoto with his studies, in an attempt to get closer to the main course, but found that they had quite a bit more in common than they both initially thought. Eventually, they became fast friends, and it had actually put a dent in…  _ her  _ plans. But the whispered threats of Makoto being hurt eventually pushed Hajime to disappear entirely. 

When they met again, Makoto recognized his face, but Izuru did not. And yet they were still drawn to each other… 

After the Neo World Program ended, they reconciled, helping each other regain their memories, eventually becoming closer and closer… until their soft, tearful confessions. 

Makoto had to return for his trial, but Hajime worked even harder to get his classmates out of their comas. When everyone was ready, Hajime went after Makoto… and just in time, it seemed.

Ever since then, through  _ a lot  _ of convincing and a few shady deals, Hajime was allowed to be in the Future Foundation, under careful surveillance as the rest of the world was starting to recover from despair. None of his classmates joined with him--they were all either in hiding, or just trying to live normal lives, away from the despair the world caused. 

Hajime covered up his red eye with colored contacts while out and about… but people still recognized him. Still glared at him with distrust, still whispered rumors about him, even throwing insults at him. Hajime learned to grit his teeth, to stay silent, to not let the tears fall, to not  _ scream  _ that  _ he  _ was also fucking traumatized to hell and back. 

But Makoto--sweet, soft, gentle Makoto--was always there, to hold him closely, to run soft hands through spiky hair, to gently kiss his tears away in the privacy of their shared room, to cry with him when the memories became too much to handle for either of them. Without Makoto, Hajime knew he couldn’t function, couldn’t plow through each and every day. If, in this hellish landscape, Hajime ever lost Makoto, there would be no way he could continue on.

And yet, at the same time, self doubt crept into his heart. Did he even deserve someone like Makoto Naegi--the savior of the world? Did he even deserve to be  _ forgiven?  _ So many people around him seemed to think otherwise, after all. If the whole world hated him, why was he even here? The world adored Makoto, but the world abhorred Hajime, and hated him even more for being so close to the Ultimate Hope. Many people thought Hajime would just backstab Makoto when they were close enough, to dismantle the Future Foundation and bring despair back into the world.

Hajime realized, as he was pacing around the room that morning… with the way things were going, those people were only half wrong.


	2. the ignition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> song for this chapter: this is the best - USS

Makoto tapped the last stack of papers against his desk, stapled them together, and slipped it in a folder before sighing in relief. Office work was always a pain, but he wasn’t physically strong enough to help with fortifying the Foundation headquarters, so he was stuck with the paperwork. “Haji, could you file this away from me?” He held the folder out to his side, looking down at his desk and checking off the last few boxes on his to-do list with a pen. “...Haji?” 

Makoto looked up. Hajime, sitting a little ways away from him, was staring off into the distance with a faraway look on his face… as if he wasn’t even there. If this was in a different time, Makoto might have thought the dreamy look pretty cute, but considering the circumstances, it only served to heighten his anxiety. “Earth to Hajime, are you listening?” When Makoto finally waved a hand in front of his face, Hajime jumped and seemed to snap out of it. 

“S… sorry, Makoto. I guess I was lost in thought.”

Makoto put the folder down, staring at his boyfriend again. “...There’s something more to this than me going into battle, isn’t there?”

Hajime’s breath caught in his throat. 

“What are you so afraid of?”

Hajime lowered his eyes. In defeat? Or as a way to hide his feelings? “...I just wish I could be by your side, instead of…”

Makoto thought,  _ instead of stuck here.  _

“I know, but think about it. Even with your talents, I’d still be worried about you if you also were on the battlefield. I made a promise, didn’t I? I’m going to return here alive.”

Hajime took a deep breath. “...Why do they all hate me?”

“Hm?"

He glanced back up, that same dark anxiety burning behind his eyes. “Why do they all still hate me? I’ve never stepped out of line. If they allowed me to, I could do so much more. But instead they might as well chain me to our damn room. Why? They have  _ two  _ Ultimate Hope talents, if they let me actually  _ do shit  _ then this attack wouldn’t even be a problem for them. Why do I just have to sit back and watch?”

Makoto stared back, unable to form the words in his throat. Because they both knew the answer. 

They both knew that it was because everyone around them believed Hajime wasn’t truly good. They both knew that it was because everyone around them thought Hajime was still Ultimate Despair. If it wasn’t for Makoto, then Hajime would be locked in a jail cell… or most likely, worse. 

Hajime felt a bitter taste start to fester on his tongue. “And maybe they’re right. Maybe I am still... a monster.”

“ **_Hajime._ ** ”

Those warm, soft, angelic hands gently held his cheeks, and Makoto’s gaze was determined, was calming, was firm.

“You know that’s wrong. You have to believe that. You’re not a monster. You’re not what they think you are. You’re Hajime Hinata, a wonderful, strong, incredible… and handsome man.” Makoto’s lips softly twitched into a smile. “You’re Hajime Hinata, the man I want to spend the rest of my life with.”

Hajime’s heart ached. He wanted to cry, to yell, to confess everything, to sob into his arms and scream that he  _ was  _ a monster. But he couldn’t. Instead, Hajime just forced a small grimace resembling a smile. “...Thank you.”

Makoto brushed his thumb against Hajime’s cheek. “No need to say thank you. I’ll just have to tell you that every day until you believe it, right?”

Hajime felt acid in the back in his throat.

“...Right.”

* * *

Later that night, as Makoto was in the shower, Hajime read the note over and over again. He had no idea what to do. Last time he was faced with an impossible decision, between hope and despair, he chose to face towards the future instead.

But now, he wasn’t even sure if he had a future.

The uncertainty around him… of course he wanted a calm, peaceful future with Makoto. He wanted nothing more than to run away, just to hide somewhere far away with the only person in the world who seemed to understand him. But that wasn’t possible. Makoto Naegi was the hope of the world, the one who turned the tide against the forces of despair--if nothing else, having him disappear would cause a nationwide freakout. Sure, he also faced criticism, but…

The criticism Makoto Naegi faced revolved around Class 77. How Makoto had chosen to save them… how Makoto had chosen to save  _ Izuru Kamukura.  _

It seemed as if Hajime only caused trouble. Not just for the world, but for the one he loved the most. Could he, truly, be redeemed? 

Were Makoto’s feelings true? Or… were they founded in pity? He always seemed sincere, always seemed loving, always reassured him, always was there for him. But he was the  _ only one,  _ it seemed, that even cared for him. There were others who were cordial to him--but, of course, polite greetings do not necessarily translate to caring feelings.

In a world full of hateful eyes, it is hard to focus on the one gaze that truly loves you. Especially if you start to doubt that true love.

Perhaps it truly would be best if Hajime Hinata simply disappeared. Who  _ was  _ Hajime Hinata? 

Perhaps that name should cease to exist.

He looked down at the note one final time.

_ Come back to us. You know you do not belong there. You already know about the attack. Join us, and you can be among friends and allies once more. Join us, and regain your true calling. Join us, and be back where you belong. You can be the next leader, after all. _

_ Come back, Izuru Kamukura. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> get ready boyz next chapter will be a doozy


	3. the flame

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tws: blood, shooting, oh... you know ;)  
> song for this chapter: unravel - tokyo ghoul opening (sorry im a basic bitch)

_ Glowing crimson eyes. _

_ They were only fixated on him, and he couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. There was simply fear, in every ounce of his body, as that achingly familiar gaze bore into his very being.  _

_ A wailing echoed in the distance, and the eyes slowly closed, tears dripping down and splashing on the ground in front of him. Clear at first, then tinting red, then fully forming into a stream of pure blood. It lapped at his ankles, soaking into his clothes.  _

_ There was no room to scream. There was only room for  _ **_despair_ ** _. _

Makoto gasped and sat bolt upright in bed. The sheets around him were sweat-soaked, and his lungs burned as he desperately sucked in air. Nightmares weren’t uncommon for him, but this one felt different. It felt almost like… a premonition? 

And normally… someone would be there to comfort him, to hold him gently, to tell him it was alright. But--the space next to him was empty… was cold, even. 

Panic started to bubble up in Makoto’s chest. He threw off the sheets, frantically looking around the room. “Hajime? Hajime, are you there?” 

No response. No light from the bathroom. By the looks of it--Hajime had been gone quite a while. Maybe even the whole night. Makoto often fell asleep before his boyfriend, after all. Hajime had… trouble sleeping, most nights. While they both were plagued by trauma, Hajime’s nightmares were far worse the majority of the time. 

And Hajime wasn’t supposed to go outside their shared dorm. Not without Makoto, at least. A stupid rule, and one that was sometimes broken, but on today, of all days… The dread in Makoto’s stomach started to form a hard rock. 

He grabbed his uniform suit out of his closet, pulling it on as fast as he could manage, and reached under his pillow to retrieve a small key. Fumbling with the key a little in his nervousness, he clumsily unlocked the side drawer on the nightstand. 

The gun and ammo inside seemed to glare back at him, but Makoto didn’t have time to contemplate why. Now that he was fully awake, even with the blood rushing through his ears, he could hear his phone buzzing with desperate calls, and hear shouts in the distance.

The attack had sprung early--while Makoto was sleeping, Hajime had disappeared and the base was under fire. 

He cursed under his breath, stuffed extra ammo in his pocket, and grabbed the gun with one hand and his phone with the other, and ran out of the apartment.

* * *

  
  


The scene was already in chaos when Makoto arrived, agents around him fighting against the members of the despair cult--most in Monokuma masks, others not. Makoto fought back the bile that rose in his throat at the site and rushed in, making sure his gun was loaded. He hated to use violence like this--he usually just grappled with the members, or shot in non-lethal places. Normally, though, he simply helped out his other members who were struggling with others.

And that’s exactly what he did. Makoto quickly pulled a despair member off a teammate on the ground, flipping them around so he and his coworker could disarm them and knock the member unconscious. He shot a couple despairs in the arm or leg if he saw any Future Foundation members in immediate danger, but he never killed. He didn’t know if he could forgive himself for that--even if they were trying to kill him.

The numbers were more than they were expecting. Makoto was sweating in a matter of minutes, but after disarming another Monokuma head, he heard a scream behind him, and whipped his head around to see… To see… 

“...H…  _ Hajime… _ ?”

It was unmistakable. He wasn’t even wearing his contacts; his bright red eye glowed in the morning light. Horror gripped every one of Makoto’s limbs, and he felt his hands start to shake. He couldn’t even lie to himself and say that Hajime had joined the fighting on the Future Foundation side.

His coworkers lay motionless on the ground all around who Makoto thought was his boyfriend, and fear overtook him as finally, their eyes met.

And Hajime smiled. A sad smile, of… defeat?

“...I hoped you wouldn’t be here.”

Makoto felt tears burning like acid in his eyes, but he blinked them away. He couldn’t afford for his vision to blur. “Hajime-- **_why?! What the hell are you doing?!_ ** ”

Hajime kept that same, soft smile that tore Makoto’s heart apart. “...I told you, didn’t I? Everyone there hates me. They think I’m Izuru Kamukura… that I’m a monster. Even those in despair think that.  _ And they’re right.  _ I didn’t belong at the Future Foundation, Makoto. I never belonged there, and everyone made sure to let me know, every minute they could. How was I going to believe in hope when the entire world believed I was the worst human being alive?”

“ **_NO!!!!_ ** ” Makoto couldn’t stop himself from screaming, from the sob clogging up his throat and threatening to burst. “They’re wrong, Hajime, they’re wrong, I  _ told  _ you they’re wrong! You’re not a monster--!!” The word choked him, felt like it was ripping his insides out. “And there were others who supported you too! Hajime, please, stop this!! We had a future together--you  _ chose  _ the future, didn’t you?! Please, we can still--”

“I’m sorry.” Hajime’s voice wavered--was he questioning his decision?--but he continued on. “The people supporting me… what’s to say they didn’t hate me too? Did they truly support me, or just pretended to, for your sake? I wanted to make my own future in the beginning, but they snatched my future away from me by treating me as a prisoner. Do you really think they would have let us be together? We would have faced so much reproach. You might have even been in danger, if you’d stayed with me. I couldn’t… I couldn’t let you get hurt. I needed to go back to my true path. Staying with you longer, in my delusions of a perfect future, would have just gotten you even more hurt. You have a purpose, Makoto. You’re the hope of the world. You have a future… just not with me.”

Makoto tried to reply, tried to yell and scream that he was  **_wrong,_ ** but only a sob came out. He didn’t even have evidence. He only had words… why didn’t those words work this time? 

And to his terror, Hajime shifted his feet, turning his body into an attack stance. “...Remember, Makoto, you promised me.”

“Please… please don’t do this…”

“You promised me you’d return alive. As my last wish… please keep that promise. And you know with my talents shooting me in the arm or leg won’t work. There’s only one way to stop this. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”  _ He was still fucking smiling. _

“Please… stop…” Makoto’s words were little more than a whisper as he tightened his grip on his gun.

“If you don’t stop me now, there will be more bloodshed, and despair might take over.”

“No… no… not you… I can’t…”

Yet… there were tearstreaks on Hajime’s face, too. “I believe in you, Makoto. I believe you can do this, and that you can get through this. And… one final thing.”

Hajime’s voice, so steady and sure until now, finally trembled. “I love you.”

And he charged.

A singular gunshot rang out, and Hajime fell backwards, crumpling to the ground, still with that damned smile as blood started to seep out of his chest.

Makoto collapsed to his knees, wailing as his fingers loosened on the gun that just ended his boyfriend’s life. The weapon clattered to the ground, and all Makoto could do was sob amidst the bodies surrounding him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so fucking sorry  
> i swear this will have a happy ending just WAIT just WAI T


	4. the burning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys!!! i'm really sorry it's been a while since the past update. so many things are going on in the world that i felt it was inappropriate to focus on this fic. in addition my mental health was lower so i had no motivation. however, it's been a while, so i decided to update with this chapter--usually i actually write a chapter ahead, so this chapter was already written, but i feel it's unfair to make you guys wait any longer when i'm not going to be able to write for a bit. so here's chapter 4! i don't know when the next chapter will be written or published, but please know i have no intention of giving up on this fic, even if it's my first multi-chapter fic since my days of deviantart ficwriting. :p i hope you all understand!!!! and i hope you all also understand the tags a little bit better... and the fact that this will have a happy ending, even with angst :)  
> song for this chapter: vanilla twilight - owl city

Makoto Naegi had seen a lot of death. Too much, in fact. He’d almost grown numb to it. Blood no longer fazed him, and funerals were a regular occurrence. He’d lost friends, coworkers, strangers, enemies. 

But this was different.

The grave was unmarked, in the corner of the graveyard--the only indication that someone was buried there was a smooth, polished rock to identify the location. 

A few people had come by to pay their respects and give condolences, but their faces were blurred in Makoto’s mind. He knew some of them were his own classmates, and others were some of Hajime’s few friends. The day ticked by, and still, Makoto stood in front of the grave, until his legs were about to give out, until the sunlight faded and darkness slowly seeped over the land. Still, he stayed, praying that the next time he blinked, he’d awake in his bed again, and this had all been just a bad nightmare. 

Some people, he knew, were wondering why he wasn’t crying at this grave.

But it’s hard to cry when a part of yourself is buried along with the body.

“Makoto.”

The firm voice broke through his foggy reverie, and a firm, gloved hand gently grasped his arm. “It’s time to go.”

He didn’t move. How could he? Moving would mean he was leaving the one he loved. Turning his back, once more, on his other half, on the part of his heart that was shattered into miniscule pieces. 

Kyouko didn’t relent. “Come on. I have something I need to discuss with you.” Her fingers curled into his jacket, indicating that she was ready to drag him away if need be. 

Finally, Makoto tore his gaze away from the grave, and over to his closest friend and confidante. Usually, he could tell her everything and anything, and usually with a smile on his face and hope in his heart. But the splintered pieces of his heart seemed to pierce his lungs, making it hard to speak, to even breathe.

Kyouko’s eyes softened, and she loosened her grip just a bit. “I’ll make you tea. Let’s go, Makoto.”

Makoto could barely nod, and Kyouko gently led him away from where half of his soul lay.

  
  


“I suppose you understand Munakata-kun a little better now.”

“...Huh?”

Kyouko took a sip out of her own tea. They’d come back to Kyouko and Aoi’s apartment, a cozy space that was just the right blend of calming and welcoming. Aoi had come out for a second, to hug Makoto and cry with him, and tell him that she was here for him, before Kyouko subtly hinted that she should probably talk with Makoto alone. Still, before she’d gone back to the bedroom, Aoi had wrapped a blanket around Makoto’s shoulders as he slumped into the couch.

“...He told me afterwards, when I’d recovered from the poison. You told him, when he was fighting with you, that even if I’d become Despair and betrayed everyone… even if you had to kill me to stop me... you’d still be glad you met me, right?”

Makoto’s breath caught in his throat, and his fingers tightened around his mug. The unsaid comparison hung in the air, heavy and humid. The final killing game had seemed so, so long ago, and yet those words were shockingly close to what had happened… just with a different person.

“I’m going to tell you this. It’s alright to feel hurt, to feel pain, to feel anger and grief. You’re going to feel all those anyway, and they’re going to be fresh for a very long time. First, you need to forgive him. That may take days, months, or years. But to truly forgive him… you also need to forgive yourself. You may think, where did it go wrong? How could I have stopped him? Was I a bad partner? You can think those thoughts… and let them go. The hard truth is, Makoto, that you had no way of knowing Hinata-kun’s intentions. The only way you could know is if you asked him yourself, and that… isn’t possible. Lingering on those questions will only make this process much harder. He knew what he was doing, Makoto… that was his choice. You may not understand it now, or ever. But you have to forgive him.”

As she spoke, Makoto felt his eyes start to sting, but no tears blurred his vision--there were no more drops to fall. Probably because he was extremely dehydrated, as well. He lifted the tea to his lips, feeling the scalding liquid pour down his throat, burning him and soothing him at the same time. He knew Kyouko was right--she always was. She was wiser than he ever would be, than he could ever comprehend.

“...Thank you, Kyouko. I’ll… try.”

She gave a small smile, reaching over to gently lay a comforting hand on his knee. “I know you will. You always have. You’re one of the strongest people this earth has. We’re here for you, Makoto.”

He tried to smile back, but his hands started trembling, and Kyouko quickly and deftly pried the mug from his fingers before he could drop it. Despite the fact that no more tears would form, he still felt like screaming, like wailing just as he had yesterday. 

Kyouko’s arms wrapped softly around him, and he buried his face in her shoulder, softly hiccupping into her shirt. 

  
  


Makoto eventually had to go back to his own apartment, long after sundown. He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep. Not when half of the bed was cold, and the bedroom seemed so… empty. He had to busy himself with something. 

Carefully, he laid the large box he’d brought on the ground, and started pulling Hajime’s clothes out of the closet, folding them meticulously, and laying them in the box. It was something that needed to be done, and he knew that if he didn’t do it now, the painful memories surrounding him would be too much to bear.

Still… still. Makoto couldn’t help but lift one of Hajime’s shirts to his chest, clinging to it desperately, trying to imagine that it was his boyfriend he was hugging, that he was still here. 

“Why, Hajime…? If… if only I could see you again… I--I don’t know how I’d react, but I… I just want to know… why did you have to do this…?” 

He stayed like that for a while, closing his eyes, trying to decipher all the feelings inside of him. How foolish of him… to think that he could have lived the rest of his life without more tragedy. It seemed to follow him everywhere he went. 

Out of the corner of his eye, a white piece of paper fluttered to the ground.

Makoto paused--why did his heart feel like it was about to burst out of his chest?--and gently put the shirt down, going over to where the paper had fallen off the nightstand… on Hajime’s side of the bed.

It was a crumpled note, and as Makoto scanned the words, he felt his already-broken heart drop to his stomach, curdling in the acid and leaving him filled with emotions he couldn’t quite put into words. Anger? Sorrow? 

...Hatred?

A few miles away, the midnight bells of the graveyard church tolled, striking those emotions into his body over and over.

And at the same time, someone else’s eyes shot open, hearing those bells ring.

He couldn’t see anything--couldn’t feel anything. Simply darkness. Was he… in limbo? Space? Was he…

...No, he was  _ supposed  _ to be dead.

He breathed in, and out. He wasn’t  _ un _ dead. At least, he didn’t think so--zombies tended to be violent, and angry, and only yearning for flesh, and all he felt was confusion and… guilt.

Still, every time he took in air, his chest seared with pain. He gritted his teeth, and tried to move his arms, but found they bumped against the sides of… something. His… coffin?

Well… that’s to be expected, he guessed.

He lay there for a moment, wondering what to do. He was certainly buried, and he was certainly alive. But he knew he wouldn’t be for long--the oxygen would soon run out. 

Would he take this second chance at life? Or should he just die a second death?

...He knew the answer.

Gingerly, he managed to move his arm just enough to reach up to his chest, and start to pull his shirt over his face. If he was going to break out of here, he didn’t want dirt to get into his mouth and nose and eyes. He couldn’t see in the darkness, anyway, so he made sure the shirt was over his whole face.

He then ran his fingers over the sides of the coffin, feeling for the hinges. He knew he couldn’t kick the top of the coffin open--not with the weight of all the soil on top of it. Bingo. His fingertips brushed against metal. 

He noted, with a grimace, that this was probably a very cheap coffin, so breaking out should be pretty easy.

Wiggling around, he positioned himself so he could easily kick out the sides. Despite having been dead for a day, his strength still paid off. One, two, and three hard kicks finally made the side of the coffin give out, and soil came flooding in. 

He knew he only had a few minutes. He pushed and fought through the dirt, trying to breathe in what little air he could, clawing through the ground, trying to reach--

Air. His hand broke the surface, and Hajime scrambled for a grip, pulling himself out of the dirt and gasping for breath, flopping over next to his own grave. 

“Jesus Christ.”

But he knew he couldn’t lay there for long. Adrenaline had kicked in; he could wonder about  _ how the fuck this even happened  _ later. He pushed himself off the ground, glancing around, and running off into the night.

A few minutes later, Hajime caught his reflection in the side of a lone parked and empty car under a streetlight, illuminating his appearance.

He was certainly a mess, with speckles of dirt all over his body, his clothes torn and scratches all over his skin.

But the most noticeable thing… was that his eyes were completely grey. No green or red.

...Well, at least that would make it easier to hide.

Until he could get back to Makoto, that is.


	5. the smoke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter song: it took me by surprise - maria mena

The buzzing of his phone finally tore Makoto from his fitful sleep, the crust of leftover tears still itching his eyes. He must have fallen asleep sometime last night, though he wouldn’t say he got much. His mind was foggy and blurred, and he felt like he was almost being choked by his sheets, tangled around his entire body from his tossing and turning. He peeled himself away from his bed and reached for his still-vibrating phone. 

“H… Hello, Makoto Naegi speaking.”

“Makoto!! Come quick!!”

That voice--that voice sent a chill down his spine and woke him up. He quickly bolted upwards, the fog clearing from his mind. “K-Komaru? What’s wrong? Are you alright?!”

“I-I’m fine, it’s… it’s… Hinata-kun’s grave, it’s…! It’s desecrated!! The--The body’s dug up and gone!!!”

* * *

  
  


When Makoto got to the site, there were already policemen around, roping off the site and searching around for clues. Dirt was scattered all around, and they’d already carefully extracted the beat-up coffin from the grave and were scanning it for fingerprints. Any footprints had been probably washed away by the rain and mud.

“Oh my God, Makoto!!” Komaru immediately rushed up to him, tears blooming in her eyes. “I--they don’t know who… who would even--?!”

“It’s okay, Komaru.” Despite everything, despite seeing the grave of his deceased boyfriend be completely demolished, Makoto still managed to give a tired smile and reach over to place a calming hand on his sister’s shoulder. “I… we should have predicted this would happen, even with the grave being unmarked. Though I--I don’t know why they would steal the  _ body…” _

Komaru sniffled, wiping at her eyes. Despite being grown now, she was still a bit of a crybaby, but that was part of her charm. “A-Are you okay…? You were outside almost all day yesterday… I-I mean I know you’re not  _ okay,  _ but physically, do you have a cough or cold or--?”

“I’m okay. I can’t have my little sister worrying about me, after all.” Makoto managed to ruffle Komaru’s hair a little, with the latter giving a small pout. “Kyouko took me to her apartment and prepared tea yesterday. I still have work to do, after all. Cleaning up after that final battle will be hectic for the next few days, and they’re already short on hands, so I’ll be working most of the day. Come on, I’m sure they’ll find some evidence. We don’t need to be standing around here.” Makoto turned away from the grave, hoping that his voice wasn’t wavering and cracking, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in his heart. 

“...Are you sure you’re okay, Makoto?” Komaru started to walk with him, but she still peered up at him. “You’re still family… Touko’s worried too, even if she won’t admit it.”

“...I have to be okay. I can’t… I can’t wallow in my grief. I… I just have to accept that… I’ll never see him again.”

* * *

  
  


Makoto leaned back, stretching at his desk. His eyes naturally wandered over to the empty desk opposite his own, but he quickly darted his gaze away. He couldn’t think about that now. He had to shove down his grief, his anger, his hurt. The world needed him, and he’d been busy all day sorting calls, trying to determine if there were any despairs left, and arranging for more cleanup of the battle area. Tomorrow he’d have to prepare to go to the area himself, and help document the damage and direct repairs. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. There really was no rest for the weary, was there? 

Still, there was an uneasy gnawing in his stomach, as if something was off, but he couldn’t quite place it. It’d been there since this morning, but had gotten worse throughout the day, turning into a cramp in his stomach. He’d passed it off as hunger pains, as he hadn’t had much to eat, but even after lunch the slight discomfort had turned to a tight knot in his insides, the same panic that he felt the day of the battle. It was as if there was something else coming--something else that he didn’t even know was approaching.

Makoto stood up, cleaning up the last of the papers on his desk. Time to clock out and take a walk to try and clear his head. Maybe the fresh air would help him some.

He pulled his jacket tighter around him as he stepped out into the world. Not only was it getting dark, but the season was slowly changing to autumn, so there was a slight chill in the air. His shoes pressed against the sidewalk as he briskly strode away from the Future Foundation building, in the general direction of his apartment, but he wanted to take the long way around… for some reason. He couldn’t quite place the feeling, but going straight back to his apartment seemed like a bad idea right now.

The streets were quiet, and the few people who were out were laughing and talking quietly, a tinkling sound in the air that would normally make the mood light. But the solemn cloud still hovered over Makoto’s heart, making his steps heavy, his head bowed, and his eyes downcast. Emotions swirled all around him, but he didn’t let himself stop and feel any of them. That would mean another breakdown like yesterday, and he didn’t have time for that anymore. He needed to continue cleaning up the apartment, and thinking about whether he wanted to move, even if it was just to another apartment in the building. There was simply too many memories, too many reminders of… of…

Makoto stopped. Illuminated in the artificial yellow of a street lamp, there was someone battered, looking like a homeless person that had been standing there for a while. But Makoto knew. Immediately, his heart burst into so many emotions that he could only freeze. For he recognized that so-called ‘homeless’ person. That spiky hair, tall stature, pointed face, and even those dull eyes, though they were a different color now. 

“...H… Haji...me…”

The other looked up, definitely moving, definitely not a corpse, and his face lit up in a range of emotions--joy, sorrow, embarrassment, sheepishness. “Makoto… I was wondering when…”

He trailed off. Makoto could only stare, scrutinize every inch of Hajime’s face, trying to see something, something, something, trying to decide on an emotion and feel something. Happiness? Sadness? Shock? 

“...Sorry, I know this must be a surprise… I don’t really know what happened myself.” Those gray eyes, so familiar and yet so foreign, met Makoto’s own. “I shouldn’t be alive, right…? But here I am, and…”

His heart settled on anger.

“...How dare you.”

“Huh?”

“How  **_dare you!!”_ ** Makoto exploded, his fists balling up as furious tears stung his eyes. “Is this some kind of sick joke?! Who  _ are  _ you?! Dressing up as my fucking  **_dead boyfriend?!_ ** Who the hell do you think you  **_are?!_ ** Were you the one who stole his body too, huh?! How horrible can you be? Don’t you know I’m grieving? That the person who I thought was my soulmate tore my heart out of my chest, stomped on it, and tore it into pieces when he betrayed me? Is this my punishment? Fine!  **_I got it!_ ** I know I’m going to hell or whatever for loving someone that I shouldn’t have!!”

“M… Makoto, no, it’s, it’s really me--”

“ **_SHUT UP!!!”_ ** Makoto screamed, covering his ears. “That’s not possible! I saw him die!  **_I was the one who killed him!!_ ** You can’t be here--you can’t possibly be  **_alive!”_ **

Hajime took a step back, hurt clear on his face, but it soon settled into grim acceptance. “...Right… I don’t know how I’m alive either, but I am. It happened last night--”

“ **_I don’t fucking care!!!”_ ** Makoto’s tears were streaming down his face. “Leave me  **_alone!_ ** And--if by chance--you are, actually, Hajime--then why the hell did you come back?!”

“...What?”

“Why did you come back?! I killed you! You betrayed me for a reason! You turned your back on me and the world because you thought, I don’t know, that you didn’t deserve me?! Bullshit! Who the hell cared what others thought?! You  _ had  _ a future! And  **_I didn’t want a future if it wasn’t with you!!”_ ** And with that, Makoto rushed past Hajime, into the apartment building, running, running away from his heartbreak. He half-expected to hear Hajime behind him, trying to catch him, but there were no footsteps other than his own. 

Makoto slammed the door to his apartment shut, locking it with shaking hands, trying to sort out whatever the hell he was feeling. That wasn’t possible, right?! He’d held Hajime as the life and heat seeped out of his body. He’d seen the blood pour out of the gunshot wound in his chest. He’d watched the corpse be carried away, watched the coffin be lowered into the ground, stood there the entire day  _ wanting  _ to see Hajime again, but when it came down to it, he… he…

Makoto just dropped to his knees, starting to sob. He had no idea anymore. Because he knew every inch of Hajime’s body, he knew every dip and curve and point. And the man that had stood in front of him was most definitely Hajime, and he most definitely had been alive.


End file.
